Modern Warfare 2: Awakening
by daarb123
Summary: The events leading up to Modern Warfare 2. I've always hated the way there's no voice for a playable character, so I decided to make one. Ramirez bonding with Dunn and others from Hunter 2-1. OCs possible. Click on the damn thing already!
1. Greenhorn

**Hey all. This is my entry into the Modern Warfare world, and I hope you enjoy it. It's quick, 1000-word snippets of Ramirez's time in the Ranger's base. Hopefully it will carry into the Modern Warfare 2 storyline. Anyway, enjoy. And I don't know anything about military protocol or procedures. Or military life. So there. **

**Cheers and enjoy.**

**-Daarb123  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed in this story. Those belong to Infinity Ward. **

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Modern Warfare 2: The Awakening

Chapter 1

Private James Ramirez woke to the sound of gunfire. Slowly, he sat up. He found that he was still in the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter, shot down by multiple SAMs.

Looking down at his hands, he found that his gloves were ripped and torn, his palms bleeding. His wrist computer was cracked as well.

Outside, blazing fires streaked across the streets, and destroyed vehicles were littered everywhere. There were three soldiers firing at the swarms of Russians surrounding him and he could recognize two of them, his Sergeant and a Corporal. The third soldier looked vaguely familiar, but Ramirez couldn't quite place his face to a name with his brain still half-asleep. The private passed him a gun and yelled something at him, then Ramirez felt his blood spatter across his face. Ramirez blearily brought up the gun, placed the seemingly too big dot onto a black shadow, and fired. He switched targets, and soon, the gun ran out of ammo. Ramirez reached down for another magazine, but he discovered that all his pouches were empty. At that moment, his Sergeant yelled more stuff at him (he really was getting tired at being yelled at) and tossed him another magazine. Ramirez quickly reloaded, and began taking down targets once more. He quickly ran out of ammunition, and he looked up just in time to see the Corporal get shot. The drone of a helicopter drowned out everything else, and when a spotlight shone down onto them, Ramirez knew it was over.

1010101

Private James Ramirez stepped off the military cargo plane. He gladly took a deep breath of fresh air, thankful that he had finally landed. The air inside the plane had been hot and stuffy, and the people there weren't exactly friendly either.

Ramirez could see everyone lining up to a desk. He stepped in line, throwing his duffel over his shoulder as he did so.

"Next!" The next soldier stepped up to the desk.

After what seemed like a long time, it was finally Ramirez's turn. He stepped up to the desk. A man in a patrol cap glanced up at Ramirez. "Glanced up" was an understatement. He positively glared at Ramirez, those deep brown eyes piercing through to his core, making Ramirez shiver. "Sir!" he shouted, snapping off a crisp salute.

"Name, rank and number." The man had a voice to match his cold exterior.

"Ramirez, James. Private. Service number 182234679-JR." Ramirez stood at stiff attention.

"Place your thumb onto the fingerprint scanner, Private."

Ramirez did as he was told. After his fingerprint was scanned, the computer blinked green, confirming his identity.

"Report to barracks 256-Charlie immediately." The officer turned to the line. "Next!"

Ramirez did a swift about face, and turned to the immense area that was the Rangers base. He found himself completely lost trying to find the barracks he was supposed to report to.

This base is ridiculous, he thought. It was like a maze, and he couldn't make sense of how the barracks were numbered. It seemed like they were numbered randomly, with no relation whatsoever.

After aimlessly wandering around for twenty minutes, he moved to ask a passing soldier for directions. He kindly pointed out the base, and Ramirez thanked him. When he was gone, Ramirez faceplamed.

He had been circling his barracks the entire time, thinking it was another.

Sighing, he walked inside.

The barracks was packed full of soldiers, each of them doing their own thing. Some were chatting, others reading magazines, but most were just lounging around, apparently waiting for something, though Ramirez couldn't imagine what.

He sighed again, walking over to one of the quieter areas and placing his duffel onto an empty bunk. He didn't make any friends on the plane, nor did he want to interact with his unit any more than he needed to. So, he completely ignored the soldier who was breathing down his neck and watching him unpack.

After a while, though, Ramirez just couldn't take it any more.

"Can you please back the fuck off?" he snapped, turning around and staring the soldier in his face.

The corporal standing there smiled up at him with a goofy grin. "Knew you would turn when I did it long enough." His face hardened slightly, though the smile was still present on his lips. "The name's Dunn. Jake Dunn. And you are?"

Ramirez shook his head inwardly. He didn't want to be polite when he was extremely agitated, and certainly not to the individual who made him so. But manners were manners, so he opened his mouth and said, "Ramirez, James. Private-"

"Whoa, whoa. There's no need for that here." Dunn waved his hands dismissively. "It's not like I'm a drill sergeant or something like that. So," he said, abruptly putting his foot up on Ramirez's footlocker. "You get transferred or you're from the reserve?"

"Reserve." Ramirez decided to keep to one-word answers.

"Oh. Hmm. Met quite a lot of you out there, so that means ..." Dunn tapped his index finger against his chin, lost in thought.

"Get your head out of your ass, Corporal. Don't pretend to be thoughtful in front of the new guy." Ramirez turned to see an African American standing behind them. He stood with the air of command, and had deep brown eyes, eyes that said he had seen combat, and so much more. Either way, this was a commanding officer. Ramirez spied the insignia on his sleeve, and the words "Foley" embroidered into his BDU.

"Sergeant Foley, sir!" he said, saluting, while Dunn jumped and said "Sarge!" in surprise.

Foley, like Dunn, gave a dismissive wave. "It's okay to be improper around here, Private. Just settle down, we'll get to know each other soon enough." Ramirez hadn't been expecting that reply.

He had imagined that a commanding officer would be cold and calculating, putting the men through PT as though they were machines, and yell at them for apparently no reason. Not like this friendly man who seemed not at all unpleasant.

"Yes sir, Sergeant."

"Please, drop that military stuff. What's your name?" He held out his hand to shake.

Ramirez relaxed a little. "James. James Ramirez." They shook.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ramirez. I see you've met Corporal Dunn here."

Ramirez nodded.

"Now, Dunn, are you alright? You look like you've been through hell."

Dunn smoothed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, command just said that we're on 24 hour leave until furthur notice, blah blah blah all that shit, and in case you didn't notice, most of the people here and completely and utterly mindfucked to lalaland because of boredom."

"I see." Foley's eyes darkened, then lit up again as if he had an idea. Which he did. "You wanna go put some rounds downrange? I heard they had a new rifle coming in."

"Yeah, I should probably do that. I haven't been shooting well lately. Coming, Ramirez?" Dunn cocked an eyebrow at him.

"No, I'd like to, but I gotta wait for my CO to show up." Ramirez resumed unpacking.

"Technically, he's already here."

Both Dunn and Ramirez turned to look at Foley. Dunn gawked, while Ramirez was at a lost for words. There was no way that this man could be his CO.

At exactly the same time, in exactly the same tone, and in exactly the same facial expression, both Dunn and Ramirez said, "What?"

Foley couldn't help but chuckle at this spectacle. "You heard me. You guys heading out to the firing range or not?"

Both men were still stunned, with Dunn barely managing to stammer out a "Yeah, sarge," and Ramirez shuffling along close behind. Foley smiled, and gave them a little wave to push them along. The two soldiers scrambled out of the barracks towards the firing range.

Inside, Foley smiled. Let them have their fun. In a few short hours, Ramirez would be put into his first warzone, and that was something Foley never wanted to do to a clean man. Sighing, he turned and walked over to some other recruits fooling around.

*Alternate ending*

Inside, Foley smiled. It had been a long time since he had an innocent soldier to order around. Now, he could finally take a break from his virtually nonexistent workload and have someone do it for him. Oh, how he longed to shout at someone while everyone else did the work. Let the "Ramirez!" days begin!

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**Author's Note: Heh, thought I'd put that in there just for fun. I've already written half the second chapter, and it will be slightly longer than this one. Hopefully I'll get that up in a few days. Until then, Happy New Year!**


	2. The Pit

**Hey guys, back with another update. Hope you enjoy this one. As always, I don't own any of the characters, Infinity Ward does. **

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Chapter 2

Ramirez stepped out of the barracks into the blazing sun. His mind was still reeling from the bomb Foley had dropped. No way was Foley his CO. No way.

He wondered what caused the Army to call in the reserve troops like this. Maybe the rumors were right. Maybe the Russians really were invading the US. It was probably why the almost triple amount of troops were milling about the base.

"Yo, Ramirez, you coming or not?"

The corporal's words pierced through his thoughts. Ramirez looked up at the waiting corporal.

"What, do I look like a fucking Barbie doll or what?"

Ramirez shook his head. Although he didn't know Dunn that well, he knew that only a guy like Dunn could make a comment like that. Probably because he himself plays with

Barbie dolls. Ramirez made a mental note to check his footlocker for Barbie dolls. That would be hilarious.

Sighing, he followed the corporal to the firing range.

The base was full of activity, with soldiers loading up on ammunition, some playing basketball, some doing some PT, but most of them were either fooling around or just chatting, what with the 24 hour leave and all.

It took longer than Ramirez expected to get to the firing range. When the duo finally got there, however, all Dunn did was walk straight past the range master.

"What the fuck?" Ramirez muttered under his breath. He jogged up to the Corporal and tapped his shoulder. "Why aren't we going to the range?"

The Corporal looked over his shoulder without breaking stride.

"That stand and shoot bullshit is too easy for me," he replied. "I'm going to The Pit." With that, he quickened his pace.

Ramirez stopped dead in his tracks, confused. The Pit? He had never heard of this "Pit" in boot camp or any of the bases he had been in. What the fuck was the Pit? Inwardly sighing, he ran after the Corporal with a "Wait up!" and flailing arms.

1010101

Not long after, the duo finally reached The Pit. Nodding to somewhere above, Dunn walked deeper into a room while Ramirez looked up, curious. There was a soldier high above, entering something into a console. Guessing it was observation, and judging by the stairs it probably was, Ramirez made his way to the other room.

It was not what Ramirez had been expecting, what with the dark, dank hallways and dim fluorescent lights hastily wired to the walls. There was a long table covered in gun oil, and two olive drab weapons crates closed tight. There were a few weapons laying around, propped up by lazy soldiers. Someone would eventually have to clean and store them.

Ramirez stood around, taking in the entire area. He barely registered Dunn getting suited up in full combat gear beside him, still trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.

It appeared that he had been staring at Dunn, for the Corporal decided to make a snide remark.

"Like what you see?" he said, shaking his rear end at Ramirez, who quickly looked away, embarrassed. "You've been staring at me for five minutes. What's on your mind?"

Ramirez didn't reply. He didn't want to admit that he had no idea what to do, or that he actually did have something on his mind. Much less to a guy he had only just met.

Dunn snorted at his silence and resumed gearing up, now loading magazines.

Still looking around, Ramirez tried to make sense of what the hell he needed to do. The first thing that occurred to him was to gear up like Dunn, but for some reason there was this feeling that that was a bad choice to make.

Dunn, now finished loading up and suitably dressed, walked over to the two weapons crates and opened them, murmuring to himself. Ramirez could hear a faint "...where are you?" before a louder "aha!" escaped from the Corporal's lips and he pulled out an angular rifle in grey-and-white digital camouflage pattern.

Ramirez, being an avid shooter himself, had looked up a few weapons before coming to the base. One quick look was all it took for Ramirez to identify the weapon as the revolutionary Magpul Masada.

"That's a pretty nice piece of kit you've got there. I thought the Masadas were still in the prototype stage." he said, pointing out the weapon.

Dunn gave him a quizzical look. "Masada? This here is the ACR. That's A-C-R, if you're getting confused. But... Yeah. This baby looks like it can pack a pretty decent punch, if you ask me. Alright." The Corporal snatched a standard-issue sidearm from the table, stuffed it into his holster, walked over to a large red button and slammed his palm over it. "Watch the master at work." With that, he disappeared into the course.

Ramirez double timed it to observation. He nodded to the Sergeant manning the console, and looked out over The Pit. From up here, he could get a clear view of everything that was going on. Even so, Ramirez couldn't quite understand what was going on. Like a typical greenhorn, Ramirez turned to the Sergeant.

"What's going on here? What is this?"

The Sergeant looked up from his console.

"You're from the reserve, aren't you? You have that look around you." He drawled, his Southern accent flaring. "Well, welcome to The Pit, the toughest live-fire course in the base. One run-through and you'll be wishing you were dead." The Sergeant paused, turning to the course. "What you need to do is simple. Move forward, take down 'enemy' plates while avoiding the 'civilian' plates as fast as possible. You'll be doing a fine job if you complete the course in under thirty seconds. This man here is starting his run.

"Watch," he said, turning to the console.

Well, thought Ramirez, this is pretty straightforward. Shoot targets, don't hit civvies, and do it as fast as you can. He watched as a buzzer sounded, and Dunn began his run of the course. He was about to get his mind blown.

The first line of targets popped up. Dunn took them down lightning fast, not pausing in his step forward. The second line of targets met the same fate, and by the time Dunn approached the only building in the course, Ramirez had his jaw hanging open.

A multitude of targets popped up all around the building, with some moving and others in harder to reach areas. Dunn took them all down with equal precision. He disappeared into the building, and Ramirez saw the Sergeant working to keep up with Dunn's speed.

After a moment, Dunn emerged on the rooftop, and he ejected the last few rounds he had into the targets around him. Ramirez saw him jump down and pull out his sidearm in one fluid motion. The Beretta's report was clearly heard as Dunn displayed equal skill with the pistol as the rifle. However, when he approached the final line of targets, Ramirez could see him wince as he accidentally hit a civilian. A loud buzzer sounded, and Dunn sprinted to the end of the course.

Ramirez nodded to the Sergeant and descended the steps to the preparation area and began gearing up. Dunn was already waiting for him, panting heavily. The intercom sounded and Ramirez recognized the Sergeant's voice.

"Corporal Dunn, all targets hit, one civilian hit, total time 27.56 seconds."

Dunn raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. So," he said, stripping off the gear. "How did I do?"

Ramirez paused.

A twitch of the eyebrow.

"You did like shit."

Both men managed to keep straight faces for approximately three seconds before simultaneously bursting into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"HAHAHHAHHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAAH!"

Eventually, Dunn managed to calm down to clap Ramirez on the shoulder.

"Dude," he coughed out between breaths, "That was seriously one of the funniest statements I've ever heard here." Dunn's entire body shook, struggling to contain the laughter that was threatening to build up again.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the two men composed themselves. Ramirez proceeded to select his weapons for the course, picking up a standard M4A1 as opposed to the ACR. He liked something that was familiar to him. Checking to see that his sidearm was secure, Ramirez moved into the course, just to have a sobered-up Corporal clap his hand on his shoulder.

"Look alive. General Shepherd's up in observation."

Inwardly, Ramirez flinched. He did his best to keep his composure though, and nodded before heading into the Pit. What the hell was a General doing in a lousy training course? Ramirez shook his head. It wasn't his right to question a General's motives. Sighing, he checked that his magazines were fully loaded and got ready.

The buzzer sounded, and he heard Dunn shout out, "Go! Go! Go!" over the microphone as he sprinted out. Three targets popped up, and he lined up the sights on the first one. The M4 was equipped with battle sights instead of the standard triangle sights Ramirez was used to, so he took a second before pulling the trigger. The man-sized steel target went down, and Ramirez shifted his aim right, taking the other two out with ease.

Dunn's voice blasted in his ears, and he pushed on, downing another trio of targets before running up to the building he had seen before.

As soon as he got to the first line of sandbags, a flurry of targets popped up all around the building. Ramirez fumbled with his rifle, firing in controlled single shots. Just as he shot down a moving target, however, a buzzer sounded, indicating a civilian hit. Ramirez caught sight of the hidden plate behind one of the terrorist plates as it went down. _That was so cheap_, he thought.

Moving into the building, targets popped up left and right, and Ramirez took them down with no hesitation, carefully not hitting the civilians. He ran up the stairs, pulling out his sidearm as he did so.

Out of nowhere, just as he reached the top, a terrorist target swung straight into his face, slamming into his nose. Ramirez stumbled, faintly hearing Dunn shouting and the word "knife", and rushed at the target with his combat knife. The metal made contact, and the target swung out of the way. Ramirez took down the four targets on the roof and jumped down, reloading as he did so.

He was now on the final stretch, a messed up mix of both civilian and terrorist targets everywhere. Systematically taking them all down, he sprinted through to the finish, where an ecstatic Dunn was waiting.

Ramirez put his hands on his knees, panting heavily. That was a pretty hard course and he felt completely drained from the experience. He didn't notice the blood dripping from his nose until Dunn clasped a hand around his shoulder and asked if he was alright.

Still slightly disoriented, Ramirez raised a glove to his nose, wiping away the blood before starting to shed his combat gear. The loudspeaker sounded, and he heard the Sergeant's voice ring out, "Private Ramirez, all targets hit, one civilian hit, total time 32.46 seconds. Good work." At his time, Ramirez looked up. Surely he didn't go that fast.

Really?

Dunn just smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. Ramirez set down his weapons and gear, about to go to the mess with Dunn. He was finally beginning to enjoy himself, even as a soldier. As they ascended the steps together, the emergency scramble klaxon went off. A voice called out over loudspeaker, "All units! We are at war, repeat, we are at war! All units scramble, head to RV point Alpha! Godspeed!"

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**I apologize for the weird ending, it was what worked at the time. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this. Review and subscribe! **

***Disclaimer* ~ I am a slow updater. Please stick with me!  
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	3. First Contact

**Hello all: **

**First, I would like to apologize for the slow update speed. I can't help it, unlike some (amazing) people who just pump out chapters like they're candy or something. This took me a little while to make it smooth, but I'm still not that happy about it. I figured it would do for now, so enjoy!**

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Chapter 3: First Contact

Ramirez shifted uncomfortably in the Humvee. The seats weren't designed for comfort, and certainly not for extended periods of time. The damn thing was a military vehicle and was designed to protect users from enemy fire while providing adequate space to return fire. Not for comfort.

Oh what the hell, Ramirez thought. This wasn't what he wanted, but he had to grin and bear it. It was war, where people died for their government's own selfish reasons. What the fuck.

The unit had scrambled into their gear and out of the base in five minutes. There was no hesitation from the soldiers as the general distress went out, and Ramirez was shocked by the efficiency at which they operated. He had barely made it into the Humvee right before the unit was about to leave him behind. Ramirez made a mental note to work on that later.

Ramirez looked to his left, eyeing Dunn as he slowly drove the Humvee along with the rest of the battalion, Hunter team ready. Behind them, Sergeant Foley kept a silent watch for anything out of the ordinary, covering areas that had already been covered by the soldiers in front of them.

The convoy had to be an intimidating sight. The lines and lines of Humvees sprinkled with APC Strykers and even an M1A1 Abrams tank in the middle rolled along the dirt road, kicking up a mountain of dust that could be seen from miles away.

Hunter 2-1 had their orders to halt the invasion of Russian forces along the East Coast of the US. Reports from the front lines didn't sound too good. The Russians were equipped with large amounts of air support, giant troop deployers, with parachutists streaming off like waterfalls. It was an enormous military force, one that was outright daunting compared to the soldiers in Hunter 2-1.

The first glimpse of enemy movement was directed towards a large trail of smoke streaming from what was assumed to be a plane crash. As the convoy moved past, paratroopers began to drop in to the area, scattered about all over the place. Ramirez heard the gunner open up behind him on a sorry soul who landed on a rooftop. The stream of tracers cut the Russian soldier down.

After a while of cutting down some more paratroopers, Foley suddenly put his hand to his headset, obviously listening to the broadcast on the other line. Much nodding later, he tapped Dunn on the shoulder, muttering their destination. Hunter 2-1's four Humvees, each holding 4 combat ready soldiers, peeled off the main road and sped off into the distance.

1010101

After a little bit more of driving, Hunter 2-1's convoy rolled to a stop. Foley instructed everyone to get out, and Ramirez swept the area with his SCAR-L. Command had sent them to investigate a small village which the Russians had apparently captured. Command wanted to know why, as the village was completely unremarkable in every way.

"This way. Ramirez, take point." Foley waved everyone forward, and Ramirez took the lead, SCAR-L at the ready.

It had taken him some time to familiarize himself with the weapon. Although it had pretty much the same controls as an M4, it was still a different weapon, and behaved differently. He didn't even know if the Eotech holographic sight was sighted in correctly. Inwardly sighing, he continued monitoring his surroundings, moving the group at a steady pace.

The small group of soldiers moved down the street, not encountering any sign of Russians. Ramirez felt his mind beginning to wonder, and he almost missed the telltale glint of a weapons sight glinting in the sun.

"Get down!" he shouted, just before the street exploded into gunfire. The group hustled over into walls, driveways, front yard decorations, anything they could find as cover as the Russians tore into their ranks, ending the lives of a few unlucky souls who didn't get to cover fast enough.

"Dunn, Ramirez, pop smoke!" ordered Foley, sticking his head out just a tiny bit. He quickly ducked back into the protection of the wall, bullets taking a chunk out of the corner.

Dunn and Ramirez, who were coincidentally next to each other, pulled the pins on their smoke grenades and chucked them out into the street, letting them saturate the area with white smoke. As soon as the time felt right, Foley gave the signal, and the Americans rushed out into the smoke, spraying thunderous suppressive fire to keep the Russians at bay.

"Into the house! Go! Parker, Take beta group and flank them!" Foley waved his group into a yellow house.

Ramirez, who didn't really think about death and killing out in the street when he was running for his life, was now shaking slightly. He knew it was war. He knew it was kill or be killed. But somehow, he knew he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it.

The group reached the basement door. With the squad stacked up on both sides, Foley nodded to the soldier on the opposite side of the doorway, who opened the door a crack, and chucked in a flashbang. There was a solid boom! and the team moved in. Near the end of the group, Ramirez moved in slowly, allowing his comrades to take care of the hostiles. The SCAR-L in his hands felt odd and heavy, and Ramirez wanted to get rid of it.

"Dunn, Ramirez, check the upper floor! The rest of us will clear out the bottom. Go!" Foley fired a few quick bursts at a nearby enemy who had poked his head out too far.

Groaning inwardly, Ramirez grudgingly followed the Corporal up the steps, rifles leveled. Not one second after his foot touched the top step, the Russians who had been hiding there opened fire.

The two soldiers ran to cover, blind firing their rifles as they went. Dunn was taking potshots at the enemies, while Ramirez was in no position to do so.

"Ramirez, do something, godammit!"

Ramirez realized he had been panting, clutching his rifle with a white-knuckle grip, frozen in place. Dunn's words seemed to have brought him out of his stupor, and he tugged a flashbang free of his combat gear.

"Flash out!", and the Americans covered their ears. One very loud bang later, Ramirez was up and running, rifle leveled, letting off quick bursts to keep the Russians in cover.

The blinding effect seemed to last a lot shorter than expected, and Ramirez soon found himself staring down the barrel of an AK-47. At that moment, he knew it was do or die. Kill or be killed. In a split second he had his SCAR up and fired two shots into the man. The Russian stumbled back and collapsed onto the ground. Ramirez barely heard Dunn take down the remaining Russian, his eyes still glued to the man he just killed.

So, this is how it feels to kill, he thought, panting slightly. Strangely, it didn't feel like much. He knew it didn't take much to kill a person, just one touch of a trigger could end one's life. It was strangely dull to Ramirez, and he shook himself out of his stupor.

The duo moved into another hallway, filled to the brim with enemy soldiers. Taking cover on either side of the doorway, the soldiers pulled flashbang grenades from their vests.

"So, how does it feel to kill an enemy?" Dunn shouted over the roar of gunfire.

"Not that bad, actually," replied Ramirez, chucking the flashbang into the hallway as he did so.

As soon as he heard the bang, Ramirez was moving in, rifle leveled and ready to blow some heads off. As the smoke cleared, he fired several shots into different moving shapes, killing several Russians. Moving quickly into the corridor, Ramirez cleared each room individually, Dunn by his side. Soon, they had neutralized all targets on the second floor.

"Sergeant Foley, second floor clear, over." Ramirez slotted a fresh magazine into his SCAR.

"Copy that Ramirez, good work. We're waiting for you downstairs. Out."

Ramirez could hear gunfire coming from the street and decided to double time it, Dunn close on his heels. They emerged onto the street, seemingly identical to how they left it. Ramirez couldn't spot any friendly American soldiers, and he was about to radio Foley again when something caught his eye.

"Get down!" he shouted while pushing a disgruntled Dunn to the concrete floor. The RPG whooshed overhead, and gunfire peppered the brick wall they were using for cover.

"Sarge, we're downstairs and taking heavy fire from Russian patrols. Need assistance, over!" the Corporal fired off a few blind shots before cursing and reloading his weapon. "There's a shit ton of them!"

Ramirez pulled the pin off a frag grenade, counted to three, and lobbed it over the wall.

"Fire in the hole!"

A solid bang sounded, followed closely by the screams of enemies hit by the shrapnel. The two Americans used this to their advantage, popping out from their cover and spraying heavy suppressive fire onto the invading force, sending them diving for cover and killing the few that were too slow.

There was still no answer on the radio. Ramirez decided to try again.

"SARGE! Where the hell are you guys?" he yelled, slamming a new magazine home and slapping the bolt release before resuming firing. He could feel the heat of a bullet as it whizzed past his ear, and he recoiled slightly in response.

A large bang sounded. Ramirez was still firing on the Russians, who were seemingly stunned, not noticing what just happened, when he felt Dunn yank on his arm. Hard.

"Just got word from Sarge. The squad's two blocks down from here. Let's go!"

The two Rangers sprinted out from their cover, across the street and put their backs to the safety of a house.

Ramirez nodded to Dunn, silently reloading his weapon. His earpiece buzzed.

"Ramirez, Dunn, if you can hear me, you're going to have to lay down low for a while. The entire area is crawling with Russians. Get to us, ASAP. We're not leaving you behind."

Dunn signaled for Ramirez to move up. They passed through a multitude of abandoned houses, silently killing the occasional Russian with the goal of getting to the squad. They were seemingly doing pretty well for a little while, keeping low and avoiding a good amount of Russians, when they were met with a street that they needed to cross. Completely filled with Russians with no obvious way through. Faint firefights could be heard in the distance, which Ramirez assumed to be Foley giving the Russians hell.

Dunn tapped Ramirez on the shoulder.

"Hey, what do you think?" he whispered, looking over his weapon once more.

Ramirez shook his head. "This is going to be tough. Our best bet is to create a distraction then move quickly and silently past them." Ramirez checked his weapon and ammunition count and slung the SCAR over his shoulder, picking up an AK-47 decked out in digital camo and pocketing magazines. "I don't see a better way."

"I'm with you on that. Lead on." Dunn quietly chambered a round in his SCAR, leveled and ready.

"OK. How many smoke grenades do you have?" asked Ramirez, checking his own count.

"Two." Dunn was holding them up.

"Same here. I guess that'll have to do. We're going to throw them in random directions, spaced irregularly but just right that people are distracted at the right area. Then we'll move through the crowd and take down the guys right next to us or are blocking us. That way, we'll minimize attention and fatality rates. Sound good?"

"Oh, why do I always get stuck in this shit..." Dunn groaned, but assumed a ready stance.

Ramirez held up three fingers in one hand, the two smokes in the other. Slowly, he put each finger down. When all he held up was a fist, the Americans threw their smoke grenades simultaneously, with a distinct increase in the Russian chatter. The Americans jumped into the street and fired in all directions, cutting down any unfortunate soul standing in the way. Somehow, they managed to survive until they were halfway across the street. Then, a flashbang exploded in their faces. Ramirez stumbled, hands desperately reaching for a new magazine, completely blinded. He felt something hit him, and he blacked out.

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**There you go. Short and sweet. Hope you guys enjoyed that chapter, again, I apologize for not updating sooner, but that's how I am. Stay tuned for more action!**


	4. Capture

**Capture**

_Ramirez opened his eyes._

_Nothing._

_He was back in his house with his family and his girlfriend, all right there beside him watching the Super Bowl on TV. He could feel his girlfriend's warmth as she snuggled up to him, his arm wrapped around her as he popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth. They were all just having a great time, with laughter and shouts of "Go! Go!" at the TV screen filling the living room. Ramirez felt completely at peace with his family. He looked down at his girlfriend, and she turned to face him._

_She smiled, and her face began melting. Eyes, nose, mouth, it all fell off, blending into an unrecognizable mess. Ramirez recoiled at this sight, placing his hand out in front of him to prevent her from getting closer. His hand groped to his side, reaching for his sidearm, but it wasn't there. Inwardly, Ramirez shook his head. Who the hell carries a gun 24/7? Looking around, his family had disappeared. Only his girlfriend, or what was his girlfriend, remained. The entity was on all fours like a wolf stalking prey. There was no face to tell its expression, but it was clear that it wanted Ramirez dead._

_Ramirez started to get up, but he found he couldn't move his arms and legs. He was trapped! Desperately, he tried to move about, but it just didn't work. Ramirez was locked down, left to die in front of this monstrosity that was once his girlfriend._

_The body moved above his pinned form, face uncomfortably close. There was no breathing, no sound emitted at all. Just a moving body, drawing ever closer. Just when Ramirez thought it would touch him, it drew back, seemingly retreating. Ramirez looked up, and the body looked like it was changing its mind. But then, a fissure opened up in its face, tearing a ragged gash where its mouth would be, if it had one. White fluid dripped from the opening, and the body opened it wide, letting go of an earsplitting roar that sounded more like a demon than anything else. For the first time since many, many years ago, Ramirez felt a pang of fear. The body moved closer, and closer, until its face was only a short distance from his, and it lunged..._

Ramirez jerked awake with a gasp, hands jerking fruitlessly at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. With a start, he realized he was still in the hands of the Russians, waiting to be interrogated. The Russians had removed his combat gear, leaving him in his BDUs and socks, and putting him to sleep with an uncomfortable drug. It was also probably why his mind had dreamt up about that abomination.

Elissa. God it felt like a long time since he had seen her. How long ago was that? The memory of the dream was still fresh in his mind, how her body felt against his, how warm he felt, and how he felt unbelievably safe. It was like nothing would ever break them apart.

Never mind about that now, he had far more important matters to attend to. He looked down at his restraints and found that they were steel chains, shining and glinting into his eyes. No way he was going to be able to cut his way through those. Accepting the fact that changing his current situation would be futile, he looked around the room that he was in.

The room was dimly lit and spartan, to prevent him from escaping. The far wall was sealed by a thick-looking steel door, ominously painted black for some reason. There was no way he would be able to unlock or break that. A thin beam of light shone through a grate in the ceiling, and there was an open window with bars blocking any type of access. The room was also out of the question, then.

Simply put, Ramirez was fucked. He had to wait, or at least figure out something to begin his plan. But even then, if he succeeded, where would he go? Was this a simple police station? Or was it a high-security prison with security cameras all over the place and an MP officer with a submachine gun every five steps? The possibilities were endless. And where the hell was Dunn?

Ramirez lost himself in these thoughts, now that he started thinking about it, he found that he couldn't stop. Escape, friends, fellow soldiers, family... The thoughts drifted farther and farther away, and Ramirez felt himself losing consciousness to sleep once again...

BLAM!

The cell door flew off its hinges, clattering noisily to the floor. Ramirez, wildly disoriented, felt hands grab him up and out of his seat, and his restraints cut loose. Two slaps across his face and several blinks later, Ramirez found himself staring into Dunn's face.

"What the fuck man?! You could've knocked first!" Ramirez was, for some reason, pretty angry that Dunn had busted into his cell. Sure, he was glad to see him and even more ecstatic about the idea of getting out of the blasted containment building, but did Dunn really need to barge in like that?

Ramirez felt himself unconsciously shove Dunn several times. It occurred to him that he was speaking and operating his vocal capabilities, but he had no idea what he was saying. By the looks on Dunn's face, it was probably something obscene and not pleasurable to hear.

Dunn rushed up and grabbed Ramirez by the shoulders, and shook him a couple of times. Ramirez blinked, and seemed to gain some sense back into himself.

"Uh..." Ramirez looked straight at Dunn, confused. "What just happened?"

Dunn let go of Ramirez, careful not to let his guard down. Ramirez was obviously disoriented and had something done to him, and it would not be a good idea to turn his back on a vulnerable individual.

"You were captured and kept here, in a Russian outpost not far from where we were. After I saw you get knocked out, I radioed Sarge and the squad was able to carve a path and follow the Russians that took you. They're holding out just inside of this compound. C'mon." Dunn waved Ramirez forward. "Let's get you out of here."

1001010100100101

Ramirez had soon fitted himself with some equipment from a dead Russian. He liberated a AK-74M and strapped four fragmentation grenades to his new vest. The black didn't fit well with his ACU camouflage pattern, but it was still an indispensable item in combat. After getting set up and making sure the rifle worked, he nodded to Dunn, and together they headed out the door.

They were greeted by intense sunlight and the squad firing on at least twenty enemy Russians. Ramirez sprinted to cover, sliding in beside the sergeant.

"Pvt. Ramirez reporting for duty, Sarge!"

"'Bout time! Now, let's get back to that village and find out why in the world the Russians are so adamant in capturing and holding the place! Nixon! Set off those charges now!" Foley was blasting away with his M4. He waved the whole squad forward, and they all began to push against the Russians.

Ramirez leveled his rifle and fired in bursts. It was relatively simple: aim, line up, squeeze the trigger and repeat. The squad was doing well, and a second set of charges was set off by someone in the squad. The explosion tore through the lines of Russians in front of them and punched a hole through their defenses.

"There's our chance, get your ass moving! Go! Go! GO!" Foley barked out the orders while laying down heavy suppressive fire. Ramirez high tailed it on the heels of Dunn as he rushed through the Russian line. The entire squad soon joined him, Foley bringing up the rear.

"Into the alley, go!"

As Ramirez found himself in the back of the group, he pivoted and turned to give the squad some more covering fire from the pursuing Russians. Something began to throb in his head, something completely foreign and unwelcome. Ramirez finished off the rest of his mag and ran back to the squad, where someone else was covering him. He ignored the pain and kept running, not stopping until finally:

"Alright team. Good work. Let's stop for a little bit to regroup. Give me a headcount and a casualty report. Hopefully that village will have quieted down a little bit and we can move in on the target."

Ramirez sank to the ground, the rifle clattering beside him. He was so tired, and just wanted to go home. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each passing second, and just when he was about to drop into blissful sleep -

"Let's move out!" cried out Foley. Hunter 2-1 was on the move again.

Dunn came up beside him and helped him up.

"Hey. Are you alright? You seemed to be hit with something back there at the base."

Ramirez shook his head clear and replied in the negative. He was still a little disoriented.

"Ok. Keep yourself frosty. I don't want to have to drag you around dead or unconscious, yeah?"

"Yeah," mumbled Ramirez. All he wanted was to just get this thing done, and head back to his bunk to get some rest.

Hunter 2-1 headed off into the setting sun, towards the small village that was just oh-so vague to the squad. What was lurking there that the Russians wanted?

* * *

**Hey there, readers! Here's an update for the story. Not bad for the ridiculous amount of time since the last update. I'm still getting a few ideas about this thing, and don't fret! It's still alive and kicking. **

**And please don't kill me for wanting some reviews. Hope all is well, and Happy New Year from Hong Kong!**


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